Broken and Scarred
by needingfreedom
Summary: My life has been shit for years; struggling to keep myself alive. Now that the dead walk, nothing's changed other than the rules. I'm able to kill the bastards now, and I've been content with such. Until a group comes to the Greene's house, where I've been staying. I'm sick and tired of people, and would prefer to be left alone with the dead, if only the redneck got the idea.
1. Chapter 1

**Yeah, I know. Now I'm writing two stories, 'cause I'm an idiot. But I love Daryl and need to have a story with him. So here you go! This chapter is extremely long because I couldn't find a place to end it other than the place it ends now. Most chapters won't be this long, but they'll all vary in length. Hope y'all love it!**

Today, it did not rain; it was a downpour. My steady feet wove through the hectic forest floor, not pleased with the undesirable terrain. When I had a choice, I picked open fields. Less chance of making noise, and easier to spot my prey. This time I favored the forest, for then the trees offered some cover from the chilled rain, and as of late I was relatively dry.

Moving to the edge of the forest, I tipped my hunting rifle downwards, squinting as the wind changed direction and the rain pelted my face and soaked my hair, the brown locks falling from their restraints of elastic and sticking to my cheeks.

In the middle of the open field was a caravan of cars; a pickup with a motorcycle perched in the bed, a jeep, and a beat up Winnebago. From where I stood, I could see a man atop the RV, or more accurately a person. I couldn't tell features, so all I knew was that the group was a threat.

"Put da gun down." A voice called from behind me and I blinked away the rain from my eyes, and thought this through. The voice was deep and gruff, clearly male. Maybe I'd be able to work my way out of this if I played the helpless woman. Lets give it a try.

"Can I turn around?" I made my voice softer than normal, for the more vulnerable I acted, the less prepared he would be if I were to act. If need be of course.

"Put da gun down." He grumbled again and I sighed, crouching down to place the rifle amongst the soggy leaves, giving merge reason I had not heard him approach. Holding my hands up, I stood and turned, shaking my head to push the hair out of my face.

The man was not as I expected. His voice fit his body, for he gave off the stereotype of a redneck; bulky with muscle, grime covered, and a flannel shirt without sleeves. Though, while I expected a rifle or other firearm, yet had an old school crossbow leveled at my head.

"What the hell is dat?" I could see his eyes darting down to my waistband, and I cocked my hip slightly to make it evident.

"Didn't know if ya noticed, but the dead are back and they are pissed. Making noise is not the smartest idea." My tomahawk was my best weapon, though my rifle was a close second. After practicing with it for some time, I've mastered the ability to throw it with deadly accuracy.

"Put it down."

"Now, why don't you lower your bow? I ain't a threat, am I?"

He lowered his bow slightly and I was done with the cat and mouse game due to the wind change and my presence by the edge of the forest where there was no cover had me soaked to the bone, the chill with the rain making me want to get out of the rain.

Taking a step forward, I planted my left foot at an angle, then lifted my right to complete the roundhouse kick, connecting foot to bow. This took him by surprise, his grip not tightened on the weapon, and it tumbled into the brush. Finishing the circle my body was already creating, I landed and looked at him, begging him to challenge me. "You're in my domain now."

He clenched his fists, judging by the look on his face in deep conflict with the voices inside his head. Though he was raised redneck by speech an appearance, he may have had the southern upbringing to never harm a woman. Which is why he was so willing to believe I was harmless. I was less than disappointed to prove him wrong.

"We ain't hurtin ya. I gotta group, will kill ya if I call 'em."

I scrunched my face and laughed. "Please, they'll be just like you. Think I'm helpless." I quirked a brow, daring him to challenge me, and as he didn't, I gave a sight nod.

The black device on my hip began to crackle and I sighed. Pulling my tomahawk out of my belt loop, I gripped it within my right hand and pointed it at him. "Move, and I will kill you. I kill those things, and only difference with you is you can talk." With that, I used my left hand to pull the walkie talkie to my mouth. "What?" I snapped into it.

"Got a boy here...shot. Says gotta group near here. Can you to get them?"

Lowering the crackling device, I looked at him. "What's your name?"

"Ain't tellin ya." He grumbled, fidgeting as he works through what he should do. He then pulled his hand to his mouth and began to feast upon the skin around his thumb nail.

"Fine, then the boy who's shot will never see his group again." I shrugged and bent down, picked up my rifle, and draped it over my shoulder and prepared to leave.

"Daryl." His face lowered and a scowl appeared on his face as he spitefully looked over at me, a mere foot away. He was a large man and being in a situation when he's not in charge must be a foreign event for him.

Putting the walkie to my lips again, I pressed the button. "Check if Daryl is one of those members."

There was a pause while silence fell eye web the two of us and the man on the other line. My already dwindling faith in this man, Daryl, was not helped by this.

"Yes."

"Guess I'll bring them in." I clipped it back onto my belt and slipped the tomahawk back into my jeans belt loop. "Get your ass in gear, I'm sick and tired of this fucking rain."

His eyes grew slightly as the curse easily rolled off my tongue, but he quickly went to retrieve his crossbow, and I was surprised when he placed it on his back. Dumb ass, didn't know me yet was already trusting. Wouldn't make it long in this world anymore.

"Go get your little group. Ill be behind." He didn't move and I planted a hand onto my hip. "Ya gonna stand there all day, cause if you are, I can come back later." Sarcasm dripped from my voice, mixed with anger. Never in my life have I been anything close to a people person. Thought when they started to drop like flies I'd be able to just stop dealing with the dumb ones for they would have dies off. Turns out I was wrong.

He huffed out an angry breath and stormed past me, making sure to thrust his shoulder into mine as he passed. Rolling my eyes, I followed.

TWD

"What's your name?" The youngest of the group questioned, cap pulled down to shield his face from the rain, though it had finally began to slow.

The group seemed frightened yet mostly unsure when Daryl and I approached them. Turns out the one shot is a child by the name of Carl, and one from my group, Maggie, already collected his mother. They weren't too pleased to leave their cars out in the meadow with a chance to be looted, but one was seriously harmed, and I refused to get into a confined space with any of them. Said I'd send another of our group of our group to help them drive back to the farm tomorrow. After some time, they finally agreed, if not only for the crackling device on my hip giving updates about the boy.

Turning to the Asian boy who addresses me with the question, I didn't faulted a step but turned my stare into a downwards glare. "I'm not a god damn tour guide. I'm not going to stand up here and tell you all the nice sights to see or where to go in your free time. Those days are gone, and until I have someone on my side here to watch my back against a group of strangers, I'm not going to tell you shit about me other than the fact that I'm deadly with my rifle as well as my tomahawk. Is that clear?" I had no intentions of repeating myself, now nor in the future.

When none of them responded, I gave myself a curt not of self approval, I turned my attention back to the trail ahead of us, picking up on each small difference in leaf and twig. In a forest, with little light because of the storm clouds.

"Cause it's raining, y'all can come in the house. Man in charge isn't fond of guns. I am." I looked over my shoulder at them. "You pull yours out, I will not hesitate to do the same." Walking up the stairs, I opened the door and stepped inside, met by Maggie.

"What took you so long?" Her voice was stern with what should have been anger, yet quiet to show how frightened she was by the ordeal. Overall, she was surely mad I had left her here alone to deal with the situation.

"Trying to hunt when I went on a damn search and find adventure." Pulling my rifle off my back, I placed it next to the door then pulled my hair down from the hair tie, or at least the hair that remained. Shaking my hair out, I allowed the soaking waves to fall past my clothes.

"So... Who are all of these people?" Maggie glanced over my shoulder at the newcomers. I looked back at them and shrugged. They awkwardly stood there, sopping wet and fidgeting.

"Hell if I know." Tilting my head back towards her, I picked at my clothes. "Ya got cloths can borrow?"

Her eyes were glazed slightly with the inability to comprehend the events of the day. "Yeah... And I'm sure I can find all of you clothes." Maybe she was startled by the sheer number of them? It was stifling in comparison to our quaint group.

We trudged up the stairs and I moved into Maggie's room and opened the drawers, while she moved into her fathers room for clothes for the men. She surely assumed I'd pull clothes out for the girls, but that was not something I planned to do. Instead, I pulled out a pair of jeans and a shirt for me.

Yanking my wet shirt off, I checked that my bra was dry and decided it was damp but would suffice. "Mac?" Maggie shuffled into the room, arms filled with a miss mash of clothes. "Seriously?"

"You know I don't help people." I shrugged, yet when she didn't move, I pulled shirts an pants out at will and added them to her pile.

"Thank you. Was that so hard?" I scrunched my face at her rhetorical question, tugging the black shirt in my hand over my head. It was fitted and had a slight v-neck, but all that concerned me was the fact that it was dry. On order to keep it that way, I decided to pull my hair up once more with the elastic around my wrist.

Maggie stepped out into the hall and I could clearly hear her stomping down the stairs. She was not a hunter by any sense, and could wake the dead with her footsteps.

I quickly changed my pants with the skinny jeans in my hands, then sat on the edge of the bed and pulled my combat boots on, tightening the laces then standing.

Making my way doesn't the stairs, I saw that most had changes, surely loosing all modesty after living with each other for such an extended time. Leaning back slightly, I looked through the window and saw that the rain had stopped.

"So, you all will be able to stay here for a bit." I looked over at Maggie, my confusion clear only face. She was crazy if she planned on having them live in the house. "Just until the boy gets better. He is critical and Otis and one of your men went to gather medical supplies. So..." She looked at me, shrugging as she hugged herself. Not only is she not a hunter, she barely goes outside other than to collect vegetables, fruits, and eggs.

"So...are we setting up tents or something?" I questioned, knowing we had a stockpile of tents in the storage barn.

"That's a great idea, Mac!" She gave me a cheesy smile as if it wasn't her idea.

"The hell kinda name is Mac?" Daryl quipped from against the wall, where he had taken up residence.

"Short for Mackenzie dumb ass." Shaking my head I patted my tomahawk to insure I had replaced it when I changed, which I had. "Now you're getting the shittiest tent in the lot."

Throwing the door open, I jumped over the three stairs that led to the ground and stomped through the newly created mud, oddly comforted by the gentle sloshing sound that came along with it.

I could hear the group stumbling behind me, even hearing a few almost fall on their asses. We made it to the storage barn ad I pulled the door open, stepping inside and disappearing into the darkness. I held true to my word and automatically pulled the shittiest tent out. It wasn't actually flawed in any way, but it was used more than the others.

Passing out all of the tents, I walked into the yard and pushed the old tent into Daryl's arms and closed the door. "Follow me." I called out to the entire group, and began to walk toward the front of the yard.

There was a single tent set up, green and created for hunting so it camouflaged easily into the woods if needed to do so. It could fit two, or one cot and room for supplies. "Who's is that?" The blonde girl questioned, pointing at the tent as if I wouldn't understand which one she was talking about without it.

"Mine. So all y'all can set up over there." I pointed several yards away from my tent, not wanting these people anywhere near me.

"Why are you out here?" He Asian man asked once again. I was unsure with why he was so nosy with my life, and I didn't appreciate it. He must be from a family where talking was encouraged.

"I'm not family." Simple answer, and it was the truth. I went way back with the Greene family, but there was no blood shared between us. I could see the questions boiling up within him, so I cut him off. "Obviously, I'm not...fond of people. So, go set up over there and if any of you city folk can't set up, guess I'll help." Didn't want to offer, but I felt it was the most socially acceptable option to give.

They nodded and walked off in the direction I ordered, except for one. As I turned towards my tent to check that the contents survive the sudden rain.

There was Daryl, dropping his tent and then fell to his knees to begin unpacking it.

"Hell no." I planted my foot on the rectangle packaging. "Hoping you aren't deaf, cause I ain't gonna slow down for ya."

"The hell ya talkin bout?" He grumbled, glaring at my foot and refusing to cast his gaze upwards to look at me.

"I'll tell ya this one time, so listen up, I ain't one for repeating myself. I've made this clear, ya set all of your shit up away from me."

He gripped the bag and yanked it from under my foot, causing it to land in the mud with a solid thud. "Fine, bitch."

As he stood, I moved closer so I was able to get right up in his face, adding as much threat behind my words as I could. "Alright, this might not be my house, and it sure as hell ain't my family, but it's as close as its gonna get. So you cross me, I can easily kick you ass back into the woods so fast your damn crossbow will spin, you got that?"

He turned on heel, causing fresh mud to form on his boots, then stormed off. I watched as he went in the direction opposite from his group, causing utter confusion. When told to set up, he decided to set up right next to me. Then when told to move, he trailed off to a direction away from anyone else. Damn redneck.

Moving into my tent I sat on the moss green sleeping bag and felt the cool polyester under my fingertips. Peering out at the side of my tent without sleeping bag, where my meekly contents were strewn about. Luckily, the tent managed to keep all traces of rain out, keeping all contents dry.

As I did not live with the Greene's, all of my lively hood was at my house a few streets down. When the first of the infected made it to my house, I packed a pair of clothes, my tomahawk, and a few cans of food and water and got the hell out of there. Since then, I've managed to go back once, grab one more set of clothes and a single book before a horde approached and I had to flee.

I'm not fond of people, and strangers got under my skin. Today will be good as any to go trek back to my house and gather some of the thing that I miss most.

Slipping out if my tent, I saw that Daryl was nearly done setting up, as well as the elderly man. The rest barely had it all sorted out. Pathetic.

Moving into the house, I saw Maggie hastily trying to cut up enough vegetables to be able to fee the group, tossing it all into a pot of water for a stew. "I'm heading out." Before the world went to shit, I would never give someone this heads up. These people took me in though, therefore I felt necessary to tell them before I disappeared.

"To get meat?" She questioned, pausing from cutting the carrot on the cutting board.

"Nah, try to clear out my house. Ill bring back the meat from the river though."

"You can't go by yourself. Last time you barely made it out." She placed the knife down with a clatter.

"Too bad, I'm going." I grabbed an empty pack off the ground and onto my back, adjusted my tomahawk, and pulled the rifle over shoulder. "I'll be back in time to have the meat cooked." There would be two or three hours left before dinner was due to be served, so most likely I'd be able to make it there and back with time to cook the meat. If not, the group would settle with vegetables again.

"Mac!" She called after me, but I ignored, continuing my pace towards and out the door. I'd be damned if I would be stuck with this group for one more minute.


	2. Chapter 2

**So I went back and checked over the first chapter and was horrified. Sorry about all the typos, I'll strive to fix them all and not have them again. My laptop is kind of in the shitter, so I'm writing on my iPod, which has shitty spell check. My apologizes and I will make sure to check each chapter closer from now on, but please hang in there with me. **

Pulling the door open, I sighed softly, wishing I had the time last time I was here to be able to lock the doors. Then there would be none of the infected lurking in the place I called home, the place where I was raised and my memories were embedded.

Slipping inside, I pulled out my tomahawk and tightened my grip onto the handle, silently listening to hear anything. This house is old, full of creaks that only years of living in it would you be able to avoid, a skill I had mastered. Silently, I awaited a noise to meet me, let me know that I wasn't alone.

There was a gentle creak from atop the stairs and I set off, feet falling quietly and dodging the spots that would make noise. I took the stairs two at a time and spun once I got to the top, tightening my grip on the weapon.

The infected was a person I once knew. It turned towards me and I took in its new appearance. This was the creature that was once a neighbor, girl by the name of Liza. Her white blonde hair was common amongst this part of town. Those who weren't born with it envied it to an extent that they treated their hair until it was just so. The sun usually did the job, but looking at the creature formally Liza I could see red roots showing. She was always one who cared for herself, making sure she was always the object of boys eyes; constantly working out, wearing clothes that showed off her tone body, and more makeup than most drag queens, though she didn't need it.

She was about my age; we graduated high school together. Though she was pretty, she was dumb as a rock, barely graduating if not for the nerds who begged to do the work for her. In truth, I envied her growing up. Everyone loved her and there was always a smile on her face. Her dad was a lawyer and mom an ex model, so they could afford anything she asked for. The utter opposite of my life. I remember growing up, wishing she would be my friend, pull me into her circle and take me under her wing.

I wanted to be her. And now, she was the last person I wanted to be. My life hardened me, giving me the lack of emotion that allowed me to sink the blade of the tomahawk in the side of her head, just above her ear, as she lunged at me. She fell and I pulled the blade out, listening for others who had been neighbors and now returning. When I heard no other creaks or moans, I holstered the weapon and slipped into the first door on the right; my old bedroom.

There wasn't much there to speak of, but there were several items I wanted. First was new clothes. Maggie was younger and smaller than I was. I have curves while she's built more like Liza out there. I could fit into her clothes, but I preferred mine.

I packed one pair of shorts and a tank, then as many sweatpants, jeans, and long sleeves I could get my hands on. The chilled rain, along with the fallen leaves are a sign of winter coming full force. While I would need the shorts and tank for any spare unrelentingly hot days left, a majority of the time I would be bundled up. After I packed all the clothes, and tossed in a few bras, socks, and underwear into the pack, filling it halfway. Then I shuffled towards my closet, pulling open the double doors and peering inside. At the top, perched on the built in shelf, was a cardboard box. My hands reached up and I shifted to my toes as I wrapped my fingers around the edges and pulled it down.

Glancing over at the closed door that led to the hall, I tipped the box over onto my bed and quickly began sifting trough the contents. There wasn't much, but I grabbed the palm sized leather bound black photo album, slipping it into my back pocket and ran my fingers through the rest. There was also a loose papers, covered in handwriting barely legible by the dries tears that once fell and smudged the ink, but I carefully folded it and slipped it into my other back pocket. That left just a few pieces of jewelry that have been passed throughout my family, though they were worthless now so I left them on the bed.

Going back to the closet, I pulled my leather jacket out and forced it into the pack. There were creaks downstairs, but I still desired a few more items before I left again, leaving this house to be possibly raided or overran.

Pulling open the drawer of my nightstand, I randomly pulled all of the books out and forced them into the pack, fearing the seams would burst, but I couldn't leave them behind. My school life was shit, but I always read. Books are the perfect way to get away from shit in life, and surprisingly, the Greene family lack any that aren't of the holy assortment.

Pulling the straps onto my shoulders, I gripped the tomahawk and opened the door, slipping into the hall. The noises from downstairs grew louder and I knew there were several infected waiting for me.

Running my hand from left shoulder to right hip, I felt the strap of my rifle holding firm. Tucking a stray strand of hair behind my ear, I slowly made my way down the stairs, spotting three creatures behind me, and one looming in the doorway. Lifting my weapon above my head, I brought it down into its skull and then reversed the pull as it crumbled to the ground, dead blood splattering on the doorframe.

The others moaned louder as they spotted me, so I took off in a sprint down the road, not looking back. My steps were sure and steady, while theirs were slow and crippled; I pulled away from them quickly and with ease. I could have easily slowed my pace after the first minute, but I decided to keep going, loving the feeling of wind on my face, the slight sting as my muscles adjusted to the sudden use. Rarely was I able to run like this, like I did before the world ended. Usually I was outside the house only to hunt, and then my steps had to be silent, or we would go without the protein needed for work the next day.

With that reminder, I made a gentle right and began running towards the river. While the days were hot, the nights were cold and the river staid chilled. On occasions when I managed to catch more meat than we could eat, I would pack them into our little red cooler and place it into the river. We didn't leave it for more than a day or two, and it worked out thus far.

Collecting the food, mostly squirrel corpses, I held the cooler in my left hand, which was void of any weapons, and started the awkward jog that came from being weighed down, and headed back to the Greene's.

TWD

We sat around the fire, logs crackling and sending sparks into the cool air as the sun began to set. Bowls of stew warmed our hands, and I slowly ate mine, savoring each bite. I've always taken small rations from the Greene's, knowing it was smarter to keep my stomach small than to extend it. Especially with the new group, and approaching winter, the food was likely to become scarce.

While the group mumbled amongst themselves about their stories, I allowed my mind to drift. I caught all of their names as they went around the circle, but didn't care who went to college or who had a rich daddy or any of that crap.

"Mac." Hershel's voice was firm, but quiet as always was in his nature. I blinked a few times to bring me back to reality, placing my bowl into the dirt and glancing up at him. He was perched on the log I currently leaned against. "They asked you a question."

Turning my head once I more, I scanned the faces of the newcomers. All leave toward me slightly, anticipating my answer to the question I clearly didn't hear. Glenn picked up on such do threw me a bone. "You said you aren't family with the Greene's, but they treat you like you are." While there was no question stated, it was clear what they were asking.

I scanned the Greene family, buying time to phrase my answer. Hershel sat next to me, shifting from time to time. There wasn't enough room in the house to feed us all at the table, the civil and traditional way around here, and he wasn't accustom to the log. Next to him was Beth, the youngest. She clung tightly to his side, timid and weak. She was a smart and caring girl, never judging me for my past. Patricia was next, quiet as always, but fidgeting. Otis was out there, looking for medical supplies. None of us would say it, but Otis wasn't fit; there was a chance we would never see him again. Beth, to my other side, nudged me, forcing me to answer.

"I knew 'me growing up." I hated sob stories; hearing them, telling them, and of course being the center of one.

Hershel decided my answer wouldn't suffice, and quickly picked up so that the group knew intimate details of my past. He wouldn't say it all, for he was a better man than that. But, I still wished he hadn't said anything at all.

"When she was fifteen, her parents...weren't in the picture anymore. Though she refused to move in with us as I suggested, I watched over her. Made sure nothing happened." I clenched my jaw from snapping, saying how it didn't really work out. But that was something they didn't need to know.

"Weren't in the picture?" Dale questioned, trying to figure out a gentle way to work the details out of me.

"The hell does that mean?" Daryl snapped and I heard Beth inhale a little deeper, and took a deep breath of my own to roll my eyes. She grew up around me, for my age far surpasses hers; she should be used to cursing by now.

There was silence and Hershel cleared his throat. The words tumbled out of my mouth without my willingness, but I knew it would happen regardless. "My mom died."

"...and your dad?" Black man... What was his name? His arm is bandaged from a cut which he swears isn't a bite. T-Dog, that's it.

I stood, brushing off my butt and stepping over the log towards my tent. The moment I answered that question, they would no longer look at me the same. Pity, or maybe fear, would fill their eyes; I've seen both. "In jail for killing her." There was an inhale of breath from the new group, but none of the Greene's even flinched. This is the fucked up hand I was dealt. While they struggled to grasp the information, I moved over to my tent and slipped inside, shifting through my contents. I shed not a tear, nor did my heart clench as my memories went back to the dark times of my teenaged years.

My hand slipped under my sleeping bag and withdrew with an opened pack of cigarettes and a silver zippo lighter. I moved outside and to the other side if my tent, slipping down until my butt hit cold ground. Hershel was against smoking, and though he wasn't my father, he would take the cigarettes and get rid of them.

I shook the pack until one white stick fell into my hand, which I then lifted and placed it between my lips. While the sun was setting, there were shadows begin cast across the ground. If not for that, I never would have noticed the approaching man.

Turning, I rolled as the redneck came into view. "What?" I snapped, cigarette bouncing on my lips as I did so. Cupping my hand around the tip, snapped open the zippo, and lit it. I took a long drag, slipped it between my fore and middle finger, and pulled it away from my mouth, slowly letting the smoke blow from my mouth.

"Ya gonna share?"

I drew in another breath, this time letting it out in a circle of smoke, than blew the remainder through it. "I use these only when shit goes down. You gonna tell me enough shit to earn ya one of these?"

"Ain't gonna tell ya shit." He grumbled.

"None for you." I blew smoke in his face, hoping to piss him off. So someone is as angry in this moment as I am.

For a moment he watched as I flicked the ash at the end of the cigarette onto the ground. He licked his lips and I didn't fight back my smirk. When the world went to shit, all the addicts stocked up. Alcohol, drugs and cigarettes were the first to go. I could tell he was used to at least one a day.

"My folks aren't around either."

I bent my elbow and crossed my free arm, gesturing with his desire. "Doubt many people's are. You know, people eating other people. Horrible, really." I took anther drag, but kept my eyes locked on him.

"My brother was a junkie, bouncing in and out of jail. He wasn't much, but when he wasn't around my dad didn't...he staid the hell away from me."

I shook the pack in my hand, listening as the contents shifted around. Three. "He hit ya?" I don't know why, but I felt like I needed to hear it, needed to have someone say the words aloud to make them real.

He didn't say it, but he gave a grunt and slight head nod. "Well, I'll light you up for that." I shook one onto his hand and lit it for him, slipping the pack into my pocket. I didn't tell him I had more, for fear he would assume that granted him some right to another.

We took a drag at the same time. I held it longer than he did. "How'd yer dad beat ya?" Without looking at him I knew his eyes were glued to me, looking for any markings. I took one final drag then dropped the cigarette into the ground, stomping and twisting my toe over it to make sure it was out.

"Not enough cigarettes." I mumbled, felt my lungs expel the smoke, an was ready to head back into my tent when a cry rang out from over at the campfire.


	3. Chapter 3

Taking off at a jog, I withdrew my tomahawk and stopped at the edge of the fire, looking around. There were no infected, but there was a new man I had yet to meet. Patricia sobbed at my feet.

Placing my weapon back in jean loop, I felt Daryl come to a stop next to me, too quiet to hear approaching. Beth fell to the ground next to Patricia and wrapped her arms protectively around the elder girl. Maggie glanced at me, tears welling in her eyes reflective from the fire.

Otis was dead.

TWD

Shane. The man who was with Otis in his last moments. He doesn't say much since he's returned, and has given no details about his death, other than Otis was over ran and he was the only reason they gathered the medical supplies. They call him a hero, but I think there is more.

Regardless, we had to wait for sunrise to create a memorial, for Hershel had to go and save the little boy, which took all night. He's now stable.

The memorial is a pile of rocks, and Patricia sits out there, sobbing with Beth silently at her side. I turned away from them, unsure of the emotions that laid under the surface. Was I saddened by the loss of Otis? Or perhaps I was burdened with the fact that if I was at the house, I would have been the one to voyage out.

"...with him?" It was not until she had virtually finished talking did I realize Maggie was asking me a question. I looked her over, and saw that she fidgeted slightly, waiting for my answer. I kept my face straight, but tilted my head eve so slightly to the right to express my confusion. It wasn't uncommon that I would be lost in my own thoughts, so it was not new for her to repeat herself.

"Daryl is in the stable, getting ready to take one of the horses out. Dad wants you to go out with him."

I let a huff of breath out through my nose. "No. I should get hunting." From what I had gathered through their stay here was that Daryl is the only one who is really able to hunt, and is the one without fear of going out on his own. Much like me. Which was why we seemed to get stuck together on so many occasions.

"Dad said that he'll let you go on runs if you do it." I didn't move, though inside my heart sped up ever so slightly. Running is my life, and Hershel refused to let me do it. No one on the farm is fit enough to keep up with me, and he felt I would be attacked if I ventured out alone.

"Fine, whatever." I grumbled and pulled an apple slice from the board an popped it into my mouth, jaw involuntarily clenching at the sour taste.

Moving to the stable, I watched as Daryl tossed the saddle onto the dark brown horse, then gently ran hand through its mane to calm it down. "The hell are you doing?"

He glanced over his shoulder at me, like there would be anyone else coming to check in on his ass. "Go 'way." He grumbled, pulling the horse out of the restraints.

"Can't. Hershel says if you go, I go."

"Why?"

I pushed air out of my nose, the closest thing to a laugh I had come to in a while. "Don't trust you with the horse." I pulled the black horse out of the stable and slipped a saddle onto its back. "Plus, I get something out of the deal."

"Wat?" He gripped the saddle and forced his leg over and struggled to regain his balance. I followed suit but became balanced with much more practiced ease than him.

"You wouldn't get it." I laced my finger through the horses mane and patted its neck. "Where the hell are you going anyway?"

He gripped the reins tightly in his hands, running through his options. I'd end up following him, and I'd be helpful if I knew what I was looking for. "Lil girl. Nine. Blonde."

I tapped my heels into the horses flank and clicked my tongue softly, slowly taking the lead out of the building. I began to process what I knew about the group. There was one that was constantly quiet, refusing to even leave her tent for the majority of the time. "Sad woman's daughter?" I struggled to recall her name. "Carol?"

He grunted which I could only take as me being correct. With that, we fell into silence, my horse always three trots ahead of his since I knew these woods as if they were my first home.

After an hour or so we had not seen any sign of the girl, and we had not said a word. I personally am content with such; just embracing nature and listening to all of it around us.

He gently cooed to the horse behind me and I tugged on the reins of mine, pulling to a stop. My head instantly swiveled, looking to make sure the area was clear. Te infected are slow and I can outrun them, and there was no doubt a horse could. But to stop and wait, they could easily be upon us in seconds. Once I was satisfied there were no infected, I scanned the area once more, looking for a tuff of blonde, or maybe an article of fabric. Something that ha made Daryl stop and could give hope this child was alive. I've seen my share of young infected, and for anyone to die is tragic, but a child was something else.

I saw nothing.

"What you stopping for?" I asked, tugging the reins slightly to my left so the horse turned and I was able to link eyes with the man.

"River." He pointed towards the direction I had just turned from and I looked over my shoulder. I saw a large drop and then a river, slowly trickling along. It wasn't the same river behind Hershel's place, but this was one that branched off from it.

"What about it?" I was quickly tiring d the whole one word thing from him. I wasn't find of having to be the one to weed information out of people.

"Rick told 'er to folla the river." I nodded slightly to myself, understanding. The main hope was that she followed the river and was down there somewhere. Only problem was figuring out how to actually make it down there. It was a steep drop that the horses couldn't make, and one I'd rather not take myself. We could keep going the path we were on until there was a slope down to the river, but I had no idea how long that would take.

"Well-" I turned back to him and then I heard it; the gentle shuffle of leaves. He heard it to, for he turned on the saddle. This caused his horse to turn with him, and then there was the hiss.

My horse bucked under me and I gripped the saddle in my right hand, wrapping my left around its neck. I managed t stay on, but Daryl must never have been in this situation. He was flung over the edge of the slope and I heard him hit several times on the way down, his horse retreating in fright.

Without a second thought, I hopped off the horse and looked around. Daryl laid unmoving, partially in the water, partially not. To no fault of his own he made a tremendous amount if noise, and I knew infected would be upon him within moments.

"Fucking hell, I don't want to do this." I tugged my hair up and wrapped the elastic around it three times, making sure it was completely restrained from my face so it was one less distraction. I bounced on my toes slightly, knowing full well that I may fall down the slope.

Pulling my tomahawk out of my belt loop, I gripped the handle and lined it up with a tree three or so yards from Daryl's body. Throwing it, I watched as it cut through the air and sunk into the trunk. If I left it on me, I feared I would cut up my body, which would lead to death, or lose it down the slope.

Biting my bottom lip softly, I grasped the root by my feet and crouched, slipping my feet over the edge and used my left hand to catch the root it connected with first. This worked for about two times, my pace fast but controlled, until my left arm became slightly entangled in the underbrush. My shoulder popped and I coiled to my left in pain, throwing me off course. My hand freed itself, but I was forced to roll the rest if the way down to the bottom. I managed to curl my right arm around my head, protecting me from any concussion that may be inflicted upon me.

My body rolled to a stop at the base of the stop, losing most of my momentum before I landed on the rocks. Gently, I rolled myself onto my back and swallowed, feeling the pain radiate through my body. I knew this was a stupid idea, but I had to do it. But I didn't get out of it unscathed as I had hoped.

Forcing myself to my feet, I felt as if my arm had been ripped from its socket, but wasn't able to fix it from down here. I just let it hang and hurried over to Daryl, the rest of my body only riddled with future bruises and current cuts, and thankfully able to walk with ease.

I crouched next to him and sighed, seeing blood soaking through his flannel shirt and an arrow protruding from his side. His eyes were closed and his face was at ease; he was passed out from the fall.

Standing, I went and yanked my weapon from the trunk with my good arm, tightening my grip and turning.

Somehow, two infected managed to make it towards Daryl without me noticing. With ease I threw my tomahawk, taking the one closest to Daryl down, just as he began to awake. He made a panicked sound I never thought I would hear from him, struggling to pull himself away from the other creature who was still approaching him at full force.

Without my tomahawk, I had to improvise a weapon. Bending down, I grabbed a rock in my right hand and changed the creature. Bashing its head in, it crumbled and I delivered two more blows before dropping the rock and rocking back onto my butt, wiping the blood from my hand onto my pants.

Daryl groaned and I was force back onto my feet, pulling tomahawk from the dead creature as I passed. It was back upon my hip by the time I crouched at Daryl's side. "Alright dumb ass, other than your side, what the hell hurts?" There wasn't that much blood, the bolt keeping the wound plugged. I wasn't a doc, and didn't know whether to leave it in or yank it out.

"Yer the stupid one who folla'd me down 'ere." He grumbled angrily, as if this was all my fault. If I would have left him alone, he'd be the infected bait at this moment.

"What. Hurts." I glanced around and made sure there were no other infected lurking beyond my initial sweep. My left arm was beyond searing pain and it was dulling my senses and clouding my mind. I needed to get out of here as much as he did.

"E'rything." He winced. "But I'm fine. Can walk, but gotta get da damn bolt out." I nodded and pursed my lips to the side.

"If ya wanna yank the shit out, fine. But your gonna bleed a hell of a lot." With my good hand I grabbed the hem of my shirt and eased it over my head, cursing anything that came to my mind as the pain hit me. I still had a camisole on, but the way Daryl looked at me made me uncomfortable.

"The hell is this?" His hand reached up and fiddled with the ring on chain that dangled from my neck. I jerked back and spun the ring until it bounced on my back, then leaned towards him again.

"We don't have much time. Pull the damn bolt out so we can get back." I gripped m shirt in my hand, then realized it would be no use to me in this state. Biting just above the hem, I tore to create a long, continuous strip to the best of my ability with only teeth and one hand.

He took a few deep breaths, his cheeks puffing out with each one to show his fear if the coming pain. Before I could do anything to aid him, he gripped it just above his flesh and yanked straight up, and I watched as the orange and yellow fetching pulled through, and he let out a primitive cry, tossing the bolt to the side.

I forced him to sit and began bandaging his side. He used his hand to hold the fabric to his wound as I wrapped it around his torso. He tied the two ends in a knot and then we both stood. Bending with effort, he placed bolt into the holder built into the crossbow and slung it over his shoulder so it rested in his back.

"Now, smart ass." He gave me a sideways glance, both of our heads tilted upwards at the black horse that faithfully waited for us to return. "How the hell we gonna get up th're?"

"With my fucked up shoulder and your side, it ain't gonna be fun." I rubbed the back of my neck and assessed all of our options. We could attempt straight up, but that was an unlikely action that would work. Couldn't get the horse down. "Let's walk upstream. There's gotta be an easier way up."

We started off, and I noticed he had a limo. "Ya gotta stop." I was sure I had a limp myself, now that the adrenalin of getting to Daryl was wearing off, my body began to force me to realize the severity of my injuries.

"I'm fine." He spat, an I was sure this was something built into him. Show no weakness, give no leverage to a person who wanted to hurt him. I've seen that before. Hell, I do that. I turned away from him as kept limping, less severe than his, hoping we'd make it to the top of the slope and to the damn horse. Finally, he found his voice once more. "What's with the ring on your neck?"

I continued walking, deciding what to tell him. There had been dozens of things he could have asked me in this moment, but he chose the ring. Should that earn him an answer? Might as well, he's told me enough of his life, and I've told him nothing. And he's seen it, and I doubted he'd let it go.

"My ma's." with my right arm I reached around to bring the ring to the front of my chest once more, gently toying with it.

He opened his mouth to say something that I surely didn't want to hear, so I jerked my head towards the right and dropped the ring. "We're going to have to make it up here." I heard shuffling from behind us and knew we were being followed by the infected. If we waited too long with our injuries, we'd have to begin to fight them off.

"Can ya climb?" He questioned as we pressed ourselves against the slope, my right hand grasping an imbedded root. The slope wasn't as steep as the other one, but we would still need to climb it.

"Let's see if you can keep up." I was scared that I would fall, but two infected broke out from the tree line and I started off up the slope. Daryl pulled ahead but blew air out of his mouth to express the strain of it all. Shoving my right foot into the soft soul above a root, I pressed my body on the terrain an released the root in my hand, grabbing the one above it. I managed to pull myself farther up and away from the angry infected at the bottom.

At the top, Daryl grabbed me under the armpits and pulled me up, falling backwards so I was on top of him. I hastily rolled off of him and landed with a thud in the soul. "Damn it!" I hissed, another jolt of pain through my shoulder.

He sat up before I did, but I forced myself up and groaned. "Come on, the horse isn't that far away."

We stood and made our way back and I saw that his limp was more severe than mine.

At the place where the horse once waited for us, I saw what I hadn't even assumed would happen. Two infected feasted on the downed animal, blood and intestine polling on the ground.

I pulled my tomahawk out and threw it, taking down the one that used to be a man. A bolt cut through the air and took down the remaining one. "Damn, filthy bastards." He dropped his arm so the crossbow dragged in the dirt.

"Guess we're walking."

**So I try to make it that if you have any questions I'll work the answer into the next chapter. If you have any questions or requests, leave me a review and I'll see what I can do. Love you all.**


	4. Chapter 4

Sorry for being so incredibly late. School is crazy, and I was out of town for the weekend. So yes it's short, but I think it's pretty good. Let me know what you think. Love y'all and don't hate me. :)

The sun was setting. Daryl was falling behind and the pain of my arm was clouding my judgment. "We have to stop for the night." I leaned against a tree and eyed him up. "We'll just get lost if we keep going."

He gave me a nod and looked around, itching at his chin to find a place we could stop and not be threatened.

"Come here." I ordered and picked up a piece if bark, sitting down but keeping my back pressed against the old oak.

"The hell?" He questioned, hand ghosting over his side.

"I'm useless with my fucked up shoulder. It's only dislocated. You need to pop it back into place." This isn't the first time I've have a dislocated shoulder, and I've come to know the pain well. I've also had it put back into place and know that pain well. But I've never done it unmediated.

He crouched in front of me. "Don't know how."

"Grab my wrist and elbow and turn it away from my body, keeping it bend. Should pop back after the first one, but if not keep going." I lifted the bark towards my mouth.

"An that is fer...?"

"Hopefully keep me from screaming." I slipped it between my teeth and bent my arm. As instructed, he grasped my wrist and elbow, and with a glance as me, he slowly turned it away from my body.

I screamed, most of which was muffled by the wood. The first attempt failed, and there was no relief from the pain. He rotated my arm back towards my stomach and spun it away from my again, my right arm reflexively reached up and grabbed his shoulder, wanting him to stop but knew he couldn't. Second time failed.

He looked at me, but I closed my eyes as he did, bending my leg up in a reflex to push the pain away somehow.

Third time it worked. My jaw dropped open and the bark fell into my lap, the pain eased away to a full throb, and I was able to move my left arm once more. I rotated my shoulder and retracted my arm away from him.

He looked me over, as if expecting me to disappear or break out sobbing, neither of which I had an intentions of doing. "Sit." I ordered him. He did and I reached out, untying the bandage and folded it, placing it onto my shoulder to keep it as sanitary as I could, then reached for the buttons in his shirt.

His hand reached up and wrapped around mine. I looked into his blue eyes. "I need to check your wound." What did he think I was going to do? Or was it what I was going to see that was the problem?

I undid the buttons and pulled the shirt away from his side. The blood had clotted and seemed fairly clean, no infection showing yet. I pulled the strip of my old shirt off my shoulder and re wrapped his wound, this time on his flesh. As I tied the ends into a knot I sport what it was that had him stop me in my tracks. Scars riddled his body, all faded and white, most relatively small. I rocked back on my heels and then fell onto my butt. He wasted no time buttoning up his shirt once more.

"Your dad?" The words slipped out without me thinking it through. He obviously didn't want to talk about it, and that for some reason wanted me to.

He nodded and looked around, pulling thumb to mouth and biting the edges of his nail. "Same wit ya?" I nodded absently, realizing many of my own scars were visible since I was merely in a tank top. "Wat he do?" He eyes flocked over to me, but I shook my head and stood.

"We should make a fire."

He figured that I had no plans to talk of my past, and while he seemed to want to know, he didn't want to share about his own. "Nah. Walkers like fire."

"But then we can't see shit. If we at least have light, we can see the infected approaching. Won't be in the dark al night." My own eyes were adjusting to the dark, but I couldn't see beyond a yard or so away. This would not be the safe situation to be in. "Or we climb a tree." I looked around and saw several trees which had branches low enough and thick enough that we could safely climb them.

He grunted and looked around. "Fine."

I've climbed trees for a majority of my life, but in the past few years I haven't been able to find the time, or desire. I walked up to a tree and held my hands up in preparation to jump and grasp the branch. As I bent at the knee to do so, I felt a pair of warm hands on my waist. I peeked over my shoulder and saw stone faced Daryl, looking up at the branch so he wouldn't have to look in my face. Turning back towards the tree, I jumped upwards, and with the aid of Daryl, curled my arms around the trunk. He stepped back and I continued my momentum forward, then backwards, and then managed to propel myself around the limb and saddled it. Looking down at him, I saw he was biting his bottom lip for reasons unknown to me. Moving farther away from the trunk, I twisted and sat, waiting for him to join me. I watched the ground below for any unwelcome visitors.

He didn't use momentum to pull himself, but instead he uses brute force of with arms to pull himself straight up and over. He sat and we exchanged a slight nod.

Now we just had to wait.

TWD

There was scurrying below and I sat up too quickly, almost losing my balance. Two arms reached out and encircled me, keeping me balanced where I sat.

I was leaning against Daryl. No, I had been napping against him.

I fought my way out of his arms and slid back to where I once sat. I must have dozed off and slid forward, but his eyes were clear in the reflection of the moon. He had not been asleep of any of it.

Unsure what to do or say, I began to fiddle with the ring on chain around me neck, a nervous habit. I didn't like being close to people, no matter which way you define "close". Physically or emotionally all... Well I'm not some bitch and going to say it scares me, but I sure as hell aren't fond of it.

"Ya miss 'er?" His voice was soft and I tried to stop my brain from figuring out why. Because being louder would draw attention to us? Or maybe because of how close we just... No focus in the question.

"An answer for an answer?" I wish I could say I didn't know why I said those words, but deep down I knew. We were cut from the same cloth, and that intrigued me. I've never talked to someone who didn't always have pity for me, someone who didn't buckle under me being an ass. He grunted and nodded, so I decided to answer. "Sometimes." I spun the ring around so it rested on my back and I wasn't forced to see it, to touch it. "When I was little, she was terrible. Slave to the damn drugs and all." I absentmindedly kicked the air. "She couldn't afford it. Used to sell herself out to any bastard with a checkbook. Sometimes she'd pass out. But the assholes... They wanted what they paid for." I refused to look at him, refusing to see the look on his face as he processed what I said. "She got clean towards the end, took some doc medicine for some mental shit she had. I miss that her, but not the one I grew up with." I shivered at the memories. The hands on my skin, foul smelling cologne, suits strewn around my bedroom. I shut my eyes and didn't look at him.

"Mac..." His hand reached out and skimmed my bent knee and I jerked away as a reaction, my kind back in a place I wasn't. "Sorry." He retracted his hand and leaned against the trunk if the tree, looking at me.

"In the past." I shrugged and slowly weeded my way out of my memories and back into the present. There were no buyers, no small bedroom, no drunk men. I wasn't a little girl. "Tell me how you got your scars." My mind flashed back to a few hours ago, looking at those scars.

"My dad." He grumbled and itched the place where his bandages were. "Most from beer bottles and 'is belt." His own eyes glazed slightly as I knew he was pulled into the past. I felt bad that I had put him into that place. It surprised me that I felt bad for that, for that was an emotion I rarely felt these days.

"How did you find this group?" He seemed more like a loner type than one who would latch onto a group. Granted it was a new world out here and it paid to have people to watch your back.

"They found my brotha and me. He was left on a roof in Atlanta, cut off his hand to survive. Out there somewhere." His gaze drifted downward to an infected that stumbled by. It picked up out scent but couldn't pinpoint us, and trailed back the way we had traveled from the river. "How 'bout you? You seem to hate them."

I reached my foot out and kicked his dangling leg. Not in a flirty way, but with as much force as I could muster. He hissed slightly as the pain registered and I glared at him.

"They saved my life before the dead walked. After my dad killed my mom, they would check in on me three times a week. Buy me groceries and all that shit, got me hired at the local store where Hershel was friends with the owner. He paid the rent on the house until it was paid off. Ill never be able to repay that man." I reached behind me and forced the ring back around my neck so it rested on my chest.

We didn't speak again until daybreak.

TWD

"Get up." I kicked his leg, the sun creeping its way over the horizon. The rays stretched across the ground and allowed us to see. He had fallen asleep maybe half an hour after we stopped talking. I wasn't able to even close my eyes long enough to drift away to sleep, so I spent the time zoning and in and, watching him.

His eyes snapped open and be sat up, almost losing his balance. His eyes cut to me, angered that I had waken him in such a way. "The hell...?"

"Get off your ass. We're leaving." He had to go down first since he was closest to the trunk.

"Fine, bitch." He grumbled and swung his left leg over to meet his right, placed hands on branch, and pushed himself off. He landed with a gentle thud, bending hi knees to cushion the impact. I followed suit, landed quietly. Standing, I pulled out my tomahawk, pulling ahead of him.

Silently, we made it back to the farm, Daryl limping a step behind me.

TWD

"Thank god." I grumbled, bending down and slipping between the top and bottom planks of the fence. Turning back to him, I saw Daryl struggle slightly. Reaching my hand out, he gratefully passed me his crossbow. My hand dipped until the weapon rested in the ground, taken aback by the weight of it. No wonder the man had such muscular arms; this thing was like a dumbbell.

He managed to force himself through the fence and snatched his weapon back from me, slinging it over his shoulder. His eyes cut into me and I couldn't help but wonder what it was that made him so pissed this time. The thought fluttered out if my mind as quickly as it forced its way in.

We made closer to the house when I heard a thud behind him. Daryl had fallen and wasn't moving. I hurried over and flipped him onto his back. "Damn it!" Blood was seeping into his shirt and I wasn't sure what had caused it to reopen, but his breathing was shallow and his eyes wouldn't open. I slapped his cheeks, trying to get a reaction. "Someone get your ass over here!" I tilted my head back to project my voice farther. We were still relatively far from the house, the tents not even visible though. Someone had to hear me.

The door swung open, banging on the siding of the house. Maggie flew out and saw me.

"Mac! You're okay!" Relief washed over her face for a mere moment before she registered the unmoving Daryl. She probably thought he was infected, ready to die and return. "Is he...?"

"No he's fucking fine!" My word choice didn't make any sense under the circumstances, but I hoped that she would put the pieces together. "He's bleeding an passed out. Get your dad."

The rest of the groups began to trickle in. "Is he bit?" Rick was the first to reach us, and I hastily shook my head and forced Daryl to sit, draping his left arm over my shoulder. Rick copied my motions and I gripped Daryl's wrist. Together we pulled him up and began dragging him to the front door of the house.

We couldn't manage the stairs, so instead we dumped him onto the couch. Hershel hurried over to him and forced the rest of the group out, ordering that I stay for Maggie to check me over.

"I'm fine. Had a dislocated shoulder but its back I place." I looked at everyone remaining in the room, listened to Daryl grumble in pain, and crinkled my nose in repulse. The emotions were too thick, suffocating me with each passing moment. "I'm going for a run."

They put up arguments behind me, telling me I needed to tend to my shoulder. But I didn't. I needed to get out of here. Away from people. Away from emotion. Away from the things I feared may be brewing beneath the surface.


	5. Chapter 5

**IMPORTANT! PLEASE READ!**

**Sup Walker Dead lovers! Before I say anything, I love all y'all and thanks for reading and reviewing! I've noticed my reviews have dropped off, which is cool I get it. BUT I'm going to need everyone's input for this one. In the next few chapters, there are two ways I can take this story. Option A: stick with the show as a guideline and add my own flare. Option B: leave the show in my rear view, do my own thing, and just pull out bits and pieces if the show that I want to use. Please review and let me know what you think so I know where to take this. Ok love y'all!**

My feet dug into the soil, a steady rhythm with each step. My route has been consistent, circling the tree line and fence border, not daring to venture where the infected roamed. If the sun was any indication, I'd been at this for about two hours, maybe more. Legs cried for me to stop, bad shoulder restricting my movements. Clothes clung to my body with the heavy layer of sweat. Still, I didn't want to stop. Emotions bounced around in my head, something that I haven't had to deal with since my dad went behind bars. Once that happened, I forced my emotions into a box that I hid in the back of my mind. I liked it that way. No emotions, no attachments, no weakness. I couldn't figure out what was changing that.

If I had it my way, I'd keep running. My body rejected that idea and forced me to a walk as I made it back to the farm house. A group had gathered around the porch, watching how many laps I could manage before I dropped dead. My eyes scanned the group as a head count. Daryl, Hershel, Dale, and Carol all weren't in the peanut gallery. Hershel was probably tending to Daryl, Dale surely on watch atop the Winnebago, and Carol... I'd ratel seen her, usually she was moping in the same Winnebago. Her being so upset wouldn't change the fact her girl is missing. Only her getting out and looking for her would do that. What Daryl had been doing.

Glenn extended a water bottle towards me. No one spoke, which I appreciated. Taking the bottle from him, my body decided it was done, and I all but collapsed against the railing, downing half of the cool water.

"What were you doing?" A side voice asked, and I turned to see it was the little boy Carol, sandwiched between his mom and Beth. I took another swig of my drink in order to give me time to think through my answer.

"Running." Guess I really didn't need to think that through. I wouldn't snap at the kid, unless he did something utterly moronic.

He let out a sign as he realized that was the best answer he would get.

The door opened, catching all of our attention. It was Carol. I almost didn't recognize her not crying an in the RV. Her head dipped slightly as all of the eyes registered on her, face turning a light hue of pink. "He wants to see you." She whispered to no one but the floor. Then I felt the eyes on me, making the not unlikely assumption it was a message for me.

Something bubbled in me. I pushed it away to be dealt with later in private, and forced myself upright. I took the stairs one at a time, the group shifting out if my way. Without meeting her eyes, I passed Carol in the doorstep and into the house.

He was still on the couch, and I could hear Hershel carrying on in the kitchen, either cleaning medical supplies or prepping dinner.

Daryl's frame filled up the couch, sitting up slightly with his back to the armrest. His back was to me, and he had a blanket pulled around his shirtless torso. I walked past the couch and leaned on the wall across from it so he could easily spot me. "The hell were ya?" His face scrunched with the question and I brushed my hair off my face which was sticking due to my sweat.

"Running." I thought it was pretty obvious. "The hell do you want?"

His brows furrowed together. "See if ya were okay."

"I'm a big girl. I can yah care if my fucking self."

"What the hell is wrong wit ya?"

"You got your own fucking nurse who can care for you. What the hell do you need me here for?" I forced my arms over my chest.

"Wat?"

"Isn't that what you want? To be with Carol? I mean why else would you risk your life for that girl?" If he wanted the girl I didn't give a fuck. But there's no way that I'm going to just sit here and act like he needs me, 'cause he doesn't.

He stood up, pushing the blanket off and standing while moving towards me. "It ain't like that." He kept walking towards me until I stuck my right hand out and connected with his chest, forcing him go stop.

"Bull. If you wanna go fuck the old depressed woman, go ahead. Just don't treat me like a moron who doesn't know."

He reached up and grabbed my hand. I tried to pull away but when you boil it down, Daryl is stronger than I am. "It ain't like that."

I scrunched my face and tried even harder to pull free. Finally he released. "I've gone through my whole life with people telling me I don't understand. I'm sick of it, 'cause I do understand Daryl. Don't drag me along in your fucked up romance shit." I pushed past him and stormed onto the porch, unsure if the people there heard it all or not. I didn't care.

My body wouldn't allow me to run, or trek out into the woods to kill infected. I didn't know what to do, didn't know where to go. I heard someone move up behind me and I turned, seeing Shane. I don't think I've ever said three words to this man, yet apparently he had something he wanted to say to me. "Are you okay?"

Alright, not what I was expecting from this man. A man who was with Otis when he died. A man who clearly was holding secrets. "Why the hell do you care?" I crossed my arms again, portraying my anger, as if he would have struggled to be able to see it without it.

"You're helping us here. You're the one who is keeping us fed." He shrugged. "Are you okay?" He asked again. His voice was soft and seemed to be sincere.

"Peachy." I jabbed my right heel into the ground, dislodging a tuff of grass.

"Listen, if you ever need anything, let me know." He reached out and ran his hand from my shoulder to elbow, which I retracted from. He gave me a smirk and walked off, leaving me feeling uneasy. The hell was that? Weather sincere or not, it made me uncomfortable. Another thing to add to the list.

I stormed off to my tent and was able to zip the flap closed before I collapsed onto the cot, unable to move anymore. I wanted to, he'll I needed to move and work out the anger and confusion rapidly building within my body each second that passed with the group here. I physically couldn't do anything else, so I just laid on top of my sleeping bag and allowed my eyes to flutter closed and fall into a sleep that was anything but peaceful.

TWD

I sat straight up, gasping to gather enough air. Sweat again covered my skin, though I was above my sleeping bag and there was a chill in the air. The tent was closing in on me and I was unable to breathe. Scrambling, my fingers scratched against the polyester until I grabbed purchase on the zipper, forcing it open. I flopped through, landing hands and knees in the dirt. Pulling a few deep breaths in, I caught myself, bringing myself back to a condition where I was not choking. Rocking back on my heels, I pulled my legs out from under me and pulled knees to my chest, protectively wrapping my arms around them. I rested my cheek on knee and looked out towards the forest.

"You okay?" The voice caused me to jolt slightly. Though it was soft, it echoed in the silence. Turning my head, my eyes adjusted to the figure of Glenn. He didn't move, waiting for me to say how close he could venture. I wasn't sure yet.

"That's the question of the day." I grumbled, looking him over. He was a honest boy, nice from what I've seen. He's young, but maturing well. He was surely younger than Maggie, but the world he was forced to be in made him tough. His cap was pulled low, casting a long shadow over his face. "Shouldn't you be with Maggie or something?" I was a little jealous, as foreign to me that was. They both had someone they cared for. Granted, they didn't make it out in the open yet, but we all knew. The looks they gave each other, the ways they made sure the other was taken care if before tending to themselves. It was a feeling if family that I never had. That was what I truly wanted, a family.

"Mac, we're just friends." He pulled his cap lower to hide the pink that was coming to his cheeks, though I wouldn't be able to see it anyway in such little light. "We all know something is up with you. And I'm told in a good listener."

"You can sit, but I'm not a talker." I slipped my legs down so they were stretched out towards the forest, and planted my hands behind me to support me.

Glenn was braver than I anticipated since he sat next to me, but not so brave as to forget to leave a sizable boundary between the two of us. "Daryl is a good guy."

I scoffed at that, cutting him a sideways glance. "You are such a bad liar." Good isn't a word that anyone would describe him. He was an angry redneck who is broken and guarded off.

"Alright, he's not as bad as you think." He revised with a shrug. "I've never seen him want to spend as much time with a person as he spends with you though."

"What about Carol?" My voice turned to mocking and quiet childish at her name and I rolled my eyes at myself.

"He's trying to find her daughter. She's grateful." He picked up a twig and began to draw in the dirt by his side. "Sophia is all the family she has left."

"I don't do the whole relationship shit. Even if the world already ended." Broken people don't have relationships. Two broken people never end up together. There are too many hidden monsters, wounds that can heal. It just doesn't work.

"All I'm saying is that he locks everyone out." He stood and adjusted his cap. "But he seems to have let you in."

As he walked off, I pondered that. It seemed like he was keeping me a lifetime away, but it seemed more likely that it was I who was keeping him at bay. "Fuck this." I muttered, stood up, and went back into my tent. Sticking hand under sleeping bag, I withdrew with my remaining cigarets and my zippo, slipping both into my back pockets.

Moving out of the tent, I spun and scanned the farm. There was the main barn, which looked beaten down and useless. Then there was the stable which held the horses, though I believe it was down to only one horse. My eyes fell upon a small shed and I tried to recall what was inside, and I had a pretty good idea what it was.

Jogging towards it, I was less than surprised to see a lock ad chain keeping it closed. Hershel is a private man who despises anyone messing with his stuff. Each building was locked up in such a fashion. I pulled my key ring out of my pocket and checked each one against the lock. None worked, so I looked at my surroundings. There was a crowbar half buried in the ground. After a strong pull it was freed, and I slipped it between the chain and door, twisted so it was taught, and jerked the top to create a lever motion. The chain broke before the lock did, and coiled on the ground with an annoyingly loud clatter. Dropping the crowbar, I opened the door and peered inside.

It was mostly empty, a few boxes strewn around randomly and covered in dust. The smell was unmistakable. Old Hershel hadn't kicked the habit as he claims he had.

Inside, I opened the first box I found and looked down. There were four bottles in there, straw between each to pad it and keep it from breaking. Grasping one of the bottle necks, I pulled upwards and placed the base in my palm, spinning it slowly to read the label. Whiskey.

Moving into the main yard, I decided to stop thinking, something I've managed to do quiet a lot lately. My feet carried me to the farm house. I quietly opened the door and crept inside, but the couch was empty. I turned and silently left, making a bee line to his tent. I undid the zipper and leaned inside. "Get up." I whispered, feeling a lot like a child sneaking around on a school night.

His eyes snapped open with a shock, until he registered it was me. "The hell is your problem?" He rubbed his eyes but sat up, the sleeping bag pooling around his waist.

Sticking my hand into the tent, I displayed the liquor. "We're going to talk and get waisted."


End file.
